


turn the nights into days

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Episode 56, Fluff, Gen, Missing Scene, Team Bonding, margaret and the party have a good time, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: An examination of the events leading up to Margaret falling asleep on Gable's shoulder, featuring darts rivalry, rooftop escapades, and an unfortunate amount of bogwine.
Relationships: Gable & Jonnit Kessler, Gable & Margaret (Campaign Podcast), Gable & Travis Matagot
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	turn the nights into days

**Author's Note:**

> [looking at margaret] i just think she's neat! 
> 
> title from the horror and the wild by the amazing devil

Margaret was used to meeting people. As a Black Lily, it was her job, but it was more than that— people were her passion, _helping_ people was her passion. She’d met people from all over the Spéir, from all different backgrounds, but there was something about these three skyjacks that was just... _fascinating._

They were in a pub, and it was late enough to almost be early. Margaret had made Travis buy her at least one bogwine earlier on in the evening, but they were well into “too many drinks to keep track of” territory at this point. She wasn’t sure where Jonnit and Gable had got their bogwine from, as it appeared to still be in bottles rather than the tankards the pub had served, but they both seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. 

Travis had very insistently dragged them over to the dartboard in the corner, muttering something about a rematch, and Margaret had seen a great many things but she’d never seen drunk skyjacks attempting to play darts with _such_ competitive spirit before. 

Travis picked a dart up off the sideboard and threw it a little haphazardly at the board. It stuck into the edge for a moment before clattering onto the floor beneath it. Gable laughed uproariously. 

“Nice miss, Matagot,” they said, as Travis reclaimed his dart and stalked back over. 

“You try, then,” Travis retorted. He leant on the table beside them and handed them the dart, before grabbing the bottle of bogwine out of their hand and taking a swig. Margaret was expecting some kind of retaliation, but Gable didn’t seem concerned, just taking the dart and reclaiming the bottle as they passed. 

“You can do it, Gable!” Jonnit said. He was perched up on a bar stool next to Margaret, practically vibrating with excitement. She couldn’t help but smile. Jonnit’s energy was infectious. 

Still, she hadn’t missed the way that he’d stumbled away from the window that overlooked the sea earlier as if he’d expected something to rise up from the waves and consume him. She also hadn’t missed the way that Gable had noticed his distress, despite their obvious drunkenness, and shepharded him away from the window with an arm around his shoulders. Even Travis had shot a look at the back of Jonnit’s head, looking if not concerned, undeniably aware. Without a doubt, there was something going on with that strange, bright child.

Gable threw the dart with so much force that it missed the dartboard entirely and thunked into the wood above it, with a loud enough noise that several other patrons of the bar looked over. Travis snorted. 

“It’s just because I’ve had thr— I’ve had four? — I’ve had _some_ bottles of bogwine,” Gable said. “Any other time I’d, I’d beat you.” 

“Oh yeah? Far as I recall, there wasn’t any alcohol involved last time.” 

“I _won_ last time,” they pointed out. 

“No, not last time then, the time— in that city, on the coast, the warm one where we met after that prison—” 

“You mean the one that went under like fifty years ago?” 

Travis pointed at them with a dart. “That’s the one. I beat you there, you big stupid idiot.” 

“You really _must_ have drunk a lot that night to think there was no alcohol involved.” 

“Well,” Travis countered. “You drank more than I did.” 

“I’m so tall,” Gable said. “I’m _so_ tall. Of course I drank more than you did, you tiny man.” 

Jonnit leant in to Margaret conspiratorially. “They’re always like this,” he said, in a voice that he clearly thought was discreet. “Always.” 

“You know, I’m starting to get that impression,” Margaret said. There was a rhythm to Travis and Gable’s arguing that, even from the outside, felt well-worn and old beyond reckoning. Margaret hadn’t drunk enough to deal with two immortals tonight, especially not when they apparently insisted on fighting non-stop instead of just admitting they cared about each other, but she was more than prepared to sit back and watch the chaos unfold. 

“Well! Well, it’s my off hand!” Travis said, next to them, poking Gable’s arm. “And whose fault is that? Hmm?” 

“If it was anyone else I’d think it’s ‘cause you’re here,” Jonnit carried on. He waved his drink vaguely in their direction. “Playing up for guests, y’know? Like the crew do. But Gable and Travis are just like this.” 

“You know them well?” Margaret asked. She knew that he did, but she was curious to hear what he’d say. He was clearly the vital member of the strange little family they’d built together, Travis and Gable and the crew of the Uhuru. 

“Oh, sure, yeah, they’re like, my best friends,” Jonnit said easily. Everything about Jonnit’s love was effortless. “I love them a whole bunch. Even Travis.” He turned to look at Margaret, with a serious look in his eyes, as warm as the candle-lit timber of the pub around them. “Gable lets me ride on their shoulders.” 

“Do they?” Margaret said, amused and charmed. “They look tall enough.” 

It was a sweet, picturing solemn Gable carrying around this excitable boy, still so very much a child. A telling image, about the both of them. Margaret wondered how often Jonnit got to be the kid Gable lets him be before he joined the crew of the Uhuru. Not enough, she suspected. 

“They are!” Jonnit enthused. “They could totally pick up me and Travis and Dr— I mean.” He looked down suddenly, twisting his bottle in his lap. His voice was a lot smaller when he said “I mean they could pick up a lot of people at once.” 

“They sound wonderful,” Margaret said, with absolute sincerity. Jonnit smiled, but it was a pale comparison of his earlier beam.

Travis sauntered over, having completely missed the dart board for the third time in a row, and looked at Margaret and Jonnit. “Hey, Gable,” he called. “I’m bored. Your boy’s sad.” 

“Jonnit isn’t my boy,” Gable said. “You’re just saying that to get out of losing.” 

“I’m winning,” Travis pointed out. 

“More by luck than skill, I believe,” Margaret said. 

“What can I say? Luck’s just on my side,” Travis said airily, leaning on the bar. Margaret laughed dryly. 

Jonnit turned on his stool to look at Gable. “I’m... not your boy?” 

“Of course you’re my boy,” Gable said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “I just didn’t—” 

“—want me to be right about anything,” Travis finished. 

“Exactly.” 

“Actually, you know what?” Jonnit said, “That’s entirely fair. I forgive you.” 

“You’re all very... interesting people,” Margaret said thoughtfully. Immediately, all three of them froze and turned to look at her. 

“What do you mean?” Gable said stiffly. “We’re all completely normal.” 

“No, no, wait, she knows my whole deal,” Travis said, relaxing again. “You mean you and Jonnit are normal.” 

“I think we all know that isn’t true,” Margaret told them. “But! I’m not here to push. Your secrets are, and will remain, your own.” 

Jonnit visibly relaxed, but Gable still looked tense, their hand hovering worryingly close to their sword hilt. Oh dear. The subtle approach wasn’t going to work with them, Margaret could tell, but that was fine. She spent most of her life dealing in nudges and subtleties, it would be a refreshing change of pace.

She slipped off the bar stool so she could stand in front of them. Margaret wasn’t short, but Gable was so tall that standing so close, she felt small— physically, not emotionally. It was very hard to make Margaret feel small emotionally, and the jumble of fear and protectiveness and intoxication all mixed up on Gable’s face was definitely not going to do that, despite their stature. But she did feel a soft wave of sympathy. Here was someone who felt the weight of the world on their shoulders. 

She reached up, carefully telegraphing her movements so Gable could step away, if they wanted to. They didn’t move. They remained stiller than a statue, gaze never leaving Margaret’s eyes. She put a hand on their cheek, and their skin is warm and soft. 

“I don’t know who you are,” she said, “Or, as Travis said, what your deal is. But I swear to you, Gable, I am here to help, not harm.” 

“A lot of people say that,” Gable said quietly. “Before they know us.” 

“I’m a Black Lily. I don’t know if you know what that means, but it isn’t just a job, it’s a life. I’m not here to hurt you. Whoever you are.” 

Gable’s eyes flicked up and Margaret knew they were looking at Travis over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what they were looking for, or what they found in him, but whatever it was, it seemed to be... enough. She dropped her hand as they stepped away, and they nodded at her, once. 

“I— okay,” they said. “Okay. I believe you.” 

Margaret turned around and smiled at Jonnit and Travis, still watching them intently, Jonnit concerned and Travis bemused. The tension lingered. 

“Another round?” she suggested cheerfully. 

They had another round, and then another, and somewhere along the line the landlord kicked them out for being a danger to other patrons because of over enthusiasm with darts — but she asked them to leave kindly, with a laugh. Jonnit and Gable were local heroes, apparently, as they both told her many times with increasing incoherency. 

The streets were filled with festival revellers, though, and finding themselves outside was certainly not enough to dampen the mood. Margaret had spent a lot of time with skyjacks, over the years, and she knew that they didn’t get a lot of opportunities to unwind on their ships. And this was the _perfect_ excuse for a celebration of sheer life and joy. 

Travis dragged them all up onto a rooftop before the sun rose. They’d found a building that looked like it was a shop or something, windows all shuttered and dark, with a staircase leading up to a door on the second floor. Gable lifted Jonnit up onto the roof with ease, and he scrambled onto the tiles clumsily. Then they turned to Margaret. 

“Would you like me to lift you?” they asked formally. Behind them, Travis snorted. 

“That would be very kind of you,” Margaret said, hitching up her skirt, and Gable scooped her into their arms deftly. Jonnit reached out to give her a hand pulling herself up, and then she was on the roof. The sky seemed huge and wide from this vantage point, and the air was harsh with morning chill. She shivered. 

“Well?” Travis said, down below. When Gable didn’t immediately reply, he carried on. “Oh, so _they_ both get a lift up and I don’t?” 

Gable grumbled and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, depositing him on the roof’s edge. Margaret and Jonnit hauled him up, and then Gable pulled themself up onto the roof after him. They all just laid there for a little while, breathing. Luminaries, they’d drunk a _lot_ of bogwine since sundown. 

“Is the sky supposed to be spinning?” Jonnit asked eventually, waving a hand vaguely at the sky above them, just tinted with the first signs of dawn. 

“Prob’ly not,” Gable said. “I don’t think so.” 

“Oh. Weird,” Jonnit said. After a pause, he spoke again. “It’s cold.” 

Gable made an unintelligible noise and gestured him over. He shuffled over so he could put his head on Gable’s shoulder. 

“May I?” Margaret asked, and Gable nodded, holding their other arm out. 

“I’m sleepy,” Jonnit said, “I wanna go to sleep now.” 

“Yeah,” Margaret agreed, putting her head on Gable’s other shoulder and closing her eyes. “Me too. Sleep time, Gable?”

When Gable didn’t respond, she opened an eye to look up at them, and realised that their eyes were already shut. “Gable?” 

“Think they’re… sleeping…” Jonnit mumbled. 

“They’ve got the right idea,” Margaret said, and closed her eyes again. Before she could even begin to reflect on the fact that, despite her years of experience doing her job, this was the first time she’d ended up drunk on a random rooftop with three skyjacks, she was asleep. 

Across the rooftop, Travis laid back and watched the sunrise without pain for the first time in two hundred years. But it wasn’t long before sleep came for him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as drowinginstarlights!


End file.
